


rolling with a leader isn’t easy

by jacksmannequin



Category: Big Fat Quiz of the Year RPF, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banter, British Comedy, Comedy RPF, Crossover, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, Idiots in denial, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Twitter Shenanigans, love through insults. you know how it is, namjoon is british yoongi is american, sort of mostly onesided, tbf its mostly namgi everyone else is just sort of there, this is the product of a fever dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22924462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksmannequin/pseuds/jacksmannequin
Summary: free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt:my chemical romance, the jonas brothers, and rage against the machine all came back before min yoongi learned what fashion is. we really do live in the darkest timeline.stream my netflix special @min_yoongi:@ me next time you fucking geezerfree palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt:my chemical romance, the jonas brothers, and rage against the machine all came back before @min_yoongi learned what fashion is. we really do live in the darkest timeline.stream my netflix special @min_yoongi:at least i didn’t fail my driving examor,Comedian Min Yoongi does not have a crush on rival comedian Kim Namjoon.
Relationships: Kim Namjoon | RM/Min Yoongi | Suga
Comments: 28
Kudos: 226





	rolling with a leader isn’t easy

_free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt  
_ _my chemical romance, the jonas brothers, and rage against the machine all came back before min yoongi learned what fashion is  
_ _we really do live in the darkest timeline.  
_ _9.4k retweets | 34.3k likes_

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi  
_ _@ me next time you fucking geezer  
_ _7.6k retweets | 20.7k likes_

_free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt  
_ _my chemical romance, the jonas brothers, and rage against the machine all came back before @min_yoongi learned what fashion is  
_ _we really do live in the darkest timeline.  
_ _30.5k retweets | 45.6k likes_

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi  
_ _at least i didn’t fail my driving exam  
_ _34.6k retweets | 43.3k likes_

* * *

Min Yoongi does not have a crush on Kim Namjoon.

Despite what everyone and their mom in the comedy industry seem to suggest—he really doesn’t. Just because every time they are in the same room they tend to monopolize the attention with their bickering, that definitely doesn’t mean they like each other. 

Every sane person would say it’s actually the opposite. 

Really, if he had to find a way to describe what he thinks about Namjoon, he’d really just say he thinks he’s tolerable at best and infinitely annoying at worst.

Maybe slightly funny, sometimes.

He really wouldn’t put up with him if he didn’t think he had some redeemable qualities. However deep down they might be hidden.

And yes, maybe their work relationship somehow went beyond the simple notion of we-randomly-always-end-up-on-the-same-segments and transformed into we-make-sure-we-end-up-on-the-same-segments when for some reason Namjoon kept popping up everywhere in the US, but it’s not like it was _his_ idea.

Yoongi tolerates it. The audience, on the other hand, always likes it. Somehow, people _love_ seeing comedians insult each other. 

It works. The banter works. 

So why change something that works? Taehyung always says it, and he kind of trusts his manager’s opinion most of the time, so whatever, really. It is what it is. His career surely benefited from it. Even if Namjoon’s annoyingly strong London accent gives him a headache. It’s one hundred percent fine.

Just as long as he doesn’t have to get involved between Taehyung, whoever Namjoon’s manager is, and how they manage to pull it off every time, he’s good.

“Promise me you won’t freak out after I tell you,” Taehyung interrupts his train of thought, his head just slightly appearing above his laptop. He’s almost grateful for it, because overthinking is an issue he just can’t seem to overcome. 

“What?” Yoongi says. He’s aware he sounds like he just woke up. Metaphorically, that’s what he did. “Why should I freak out?”

“So you know how panel shows are a thing in the UK.”

“Yes,” he immediately replies, his whole body waking up at Taehyung’s words. “I don’t watch all of them or anything.”

“Right.” Taehyung stands up straighter, mirroring Yoongi’s stance. He blinks a couple of times, until he seems to realize what he’s doing and proceeds to finally put away his laptop. “Obviously.”

Yoongi locks his phone. The ideas he was trying to throw around for his next sets can wait.

“So?”

“Like I said, don’t freak out,” Taehyung repeats, which is starting to get on his nerves. Why should he freak out? “If I say December, Channel 4, and Jimmy Carr, what comes to mind?”

It’s Yoongi’s time to blink. “The Big Fat Quiz of the Year.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung nods really slowly, as if he’s giving Yoongi the time to process it. That’s how it feels, anyway. “That.”

“Okay, and what does that have to do with me?” Yoongi blinks again. If his memory isn’t failing him, they record it more or less a couple of weeks before it comes out at the end of the year. “I mean, I’m gonna watch it like I do every year?”

“I guess technically you will.”

Yoongi just stares at him. “If you don’t quit being cryptid I will fire you.”

“No need to get hostile.” Taehyung stares back. Then, totally unprompted, he breaks out in a smile. “What if they wanted you to be a panelist on it?”

Yoongi blinks again. Extremely slowly. Then he does it again. His head actually kind of feels a bit dizzy. Like someone is holding him upside down and all the blood is rushing to his brain.

“They want me to be what?” he croaks, his chin sticking out like he’s an ostrich. His jaw drops. “On what?”

Taehyung finally takes pity on him and decides to act like the professional figure he’s supposed to be, _thank God_ —it’s still confusing, and Yoongi still wants to punch him, but seeing him open his laptop again and read over what he assumes it’s the cursed email somehow eases his internal pain. 

“You know how they record these things like one or two weeks before they air, which means it was scheduled to happen around, like, now?” He definitely knows, and he’s about to start screaming, but luckily Taehyung continues before he can start the process of opening his mouth. “They were supposed to have Mo Gilligan on again, but he pulled out because of reasons they didn’t say, so they have an empty spot and a team cut in half. And if you could get to the UK before, like, Saturday, they’d love to have you on. As their usual American guest. You know, like Chelsea Peretti and stuff.”

Yoongi nods through all of it, his sanity hanging on by a thread by this point. “Saturday? It’s Thursday night.”

He’s not sure why that feels like the least plausible thing out of everything Taehyung said, honestly. 

“We can catch a flight out of LAX tomorrow,” Taehyung says, while also having the audacity to shrug and look like there’s something he’s not saying. “You would make it with time to spare.”

“Okay.” Yoongi takes a deep breath. His sanity be damned. “If they’re so in need to find someone ASAP, why not just ask some other British comedian?”

Taehyung hesitates.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

Taehyung keeps hesitating. 

“Like, it’s not like they have foreigners on every single year.” And, since he’s a lot of things but he’s not stupid, he folds his arms on his chest and leans back on the couch, ready to get to the bottom of it. By all means necessary. “I get that it’s not ideal, but even if everyone in Britain was busy, and I’d like to clarify he’d never be my first choice either, Namjoon has been on there before. He’s always on _8 Out of 10 Cats_ every fucking time I watch it. Why go out of their way to ask _me_ of all people?”

Taehyung coughs. 

Yoongi ducks his head to the side as a really ugly feeling takes ahold of him. “Please tell me it’s not what I’m starting to think it is.”

“Well, it’s not like it would be the first time you two—”

“I’m gonna kill myself,” Yoongi deadpans.

“So dramatic for no reason,” Taehyung mutters, avoiding Yoongi’s piercing stare. It’s clear he’s embarrassed. 

He should be.

“Do you know what the fuck just happened to me?” Yoongi whines, combing a hand through his hair in distress. “It’s like if you went to a Radiohead show and the people they pulled on stage were you and your sworn enemy. How would you like to share the highest peak of your life with your sworn enemy? Do tell.”

Taehyung winces. “Okay, first of all, Radiohead do not get people on stage—”

“That is besides the fucking point,” Yoongi immediately cuts him off. He gets up from the couch out of desperation and starts pacing around the room. Why is it always him? “I get the opportunity of a lifetime to be on one of these things and it’s just because they want Kim Namjoon to call me a wanker on national TV. Holy shit.”

Taehyung chuckles.

He _chuckles._

“What?” Yoongi snaps at him, throwing his hands in the air. To his credit, Taehyung doesn’t look too scared. Yoongi knows he needs to work on expressing his anger. “What is it?”

“I was just thinking about him calling you a wanker on Fallon,” Taehyung says, the little shit, his hand covering his mouth. “Can you blame them?”

“I can’t,” Yoongi eventually admits. He shakes his head. Might as well sit down again or he’s going to faint. “Which is very sad.”

“Why would it be sad?” Taehyung closes his laptop once again and leaves his chair. Great. Yoongi could use some physical affection. Not that he’d say it out loud. “You get paid to insult him. I see it as a win. Plus, it’s not like it’s the first time.”

“Not that,” Yoongi mutters on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung ruffles his hair and lets him snuggle up to him. 

“What then?”

“You know what.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Nope.”

There’s a long pause. Taehyung doesn’t say anything.

“I’m tired of being associated with him,” Yoongi finally admits, letting him stroke his hair. His voice goes so low he barely hears it himself. “We’re not a duo. I have my own damn career. It’s insulting. You know?”

“It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, though.” Taehyung’s voice goes softer as he speaks, and Yoongi can’t help but relax to it. He tries to focus on it. “I doubt Nick Kroll dislikes being associated to John Mulaney.”

“Yeah, because they’re _friends_ ,” Yoongi gets out through gritted teeth. Taehyung winces. “They market themselves as friends. They have a whole Broadway show together. They don’t call each other wankers on TV and mean it.”

Taehyung sighs. “You’re aware nobody thinks you two actually can’t stand each other, right?”

“Huh?” Yoongi pulls away, now confused. Taehyung looks at him with a pointed look. “What?”

“Namjoon is always smiling when he talks to you.” Taehyung suddenly cuts himself off, and when he speaks again, it’s like a new realization hit him. “Oh, wow. You think he actually really hates you.”

“Yeah?” It’s now Yoongi’s turn to look stunned. “Of course he does. Have you seen us together? I hate his stupid smug face.”

“I have.” A smirk appears on his face. “That’s why I’m saying what I’m saying. Wow.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You just do the panel show.” Taehyung pats his back in what Yoongi considers a very condescending way and goes back to his laptop. He almost feels disappointed by the lack of contact, but Taehyung comes back immediately and sinks down on the pillows next to him. “Say yes and I’m agreeing.”

“Namjoon and I on the same team,” Yoongi whispers to himself. He looks down at his hands. Does he really think he has enough patience not to scream at him on TV? “It makes me mad that I know he’s good at trivia.”

Taehyung shrugs it off. Yoongi wants to die.

“So?”

“What am I gonna do? Say no?” There’s silence for a bunch of seconds. Yoongi snorts. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Taehyung exclaims before Yoongi can instantly regret saying it. He starts furiously typing on his laptop. “Think of the engagement. I have to book plane tickets.”

“Is this your way of telling me to fuck off?” Yoongi asks.

“If you put it that way, yes,” Taehyung distractedly says, not even bothering to look up from the screen. 

“Fine,” Yoongi says again, the word sounding even more miserable this time around.

Of all the things he’s done in his life, deciding to be roommates with his manager was definitely the least commendable one.

He’s pretty sure it just got dethroned by agreeing to this thing.

Fuck his life.

* * *

From the moment he gets up from the couch to go to bed, to the moment he actually falls asleep, his thoughts are pretty much stuck in the same place.

_You think he actually really hates you._

It takes him a long time before he closes his eyes for good.

* * *

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi  
_ _leaving for the uk rn any lesser known cool spots i should check out while in london?  
_ _20 retweets | 890 likes_

_> Ali Wong @AliWong_: _I recommend_ _@namjoon_twt  
__> > @user1: LMAOOOOOOOOOOO_

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi  
_ _no  
_ _9.4k retweets | 10.3k likes_

_free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt  
_ _huh  
_ _7.4 retweets | 8.4k likes_

* * *

“Okay, I feel like this is a good time to ask who else is on the show.”

Taehyung snorts. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“What made you think I didn’t just look it up myself?”

“Knowing you for years gave me a hunch,” Taehyung says, a smile tugging at his lips. Yoongi glares at him. “It’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, yeah, now who are the guests,” Yoongi murmurs, shrinking back in his seat. He really doesn’t feel like leaving the car. If he leaves the car, he’s going to have to get into the studios, and _then_ it’ll be real. “Quick.”

“Namjoon.”

Yoongi closes his eyes. He’s starting to regret every life choice he’s ever made. Ever.

“I would have never guessed.”

“Ha,” Taehyung says. What’s so funny about Yoongi’s slow descent into madness? “Noel Fielding and Richard Ayoade. You. Jack Whitehall and Claudia Winkleman.”

“Oh my God.” Yoongi draws in a sharp breath and resorts to staring in front of him. A parking lot has never looked more appealing. “I’m gonna make a fool out of myself with Richard Ayoade in the room.”

“At least Jack is there. Aren’t you two sort of friends?”

“Jack can’t stop Namjoon from being an asshole.”

“God, you’re so blind.”

Yoongi abruptly turns around and gets out of the car. “I’m going in.”

“Have fun. I’ll catch up to you in a bit.”

“I hate myself,” Yoongi whispers to himself as he slams the car door closed.

It’s going to be bad. It’s going to be so bad, and he’s sure of it, because everything always goes terribly when Namjoon is involved. No matter what Taehyung, or anyone, says about it. They don’t like each other.

Never have, never will.

Every single step towards the studios is a knife being shoved in his back. He knows Taehyung is behind him—if not actually behind him, he’s surely about to be—and it’s not like this is his first rodeo, but his fingers are itching more than they usually do, and it’s stressing him out. This feeling of uncertainty. Like he’s supposed to know something he doesn’t. Like when you’re one hour away from an exam and you’re still missing three chapters of the required textbook.

Not that Yoongi would know. He dropped out of college. Namjoon didn’t, instead, and graduated top of his class—because of course he did. He’s Kim Namjoon and he’s perfect.

God, he needs something to do with his hands.

His fingertips fly to the Twitter app, and he immediately wishes he didn’t.

Oh, it’s fucking _on._

* * *

_free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt  
_ _i can’t wait to have some pure uncut FUN  
_ _650 retweets | 2.4k likes_

_stream my special @min_yoongi  
_ _i can’t wait to throw myself off a cliff  
_ _320 retweets | 1.7k likes_

_name can’t be blank @user1  
_ _y’all think those were related?  
_ _> @user2: Context Clues._

* * *

It’s not that traumatic, at first. Namjoon knew. Of course Namjoon knew—once again, Yoongi has to thank Taehyung’s weird relationship with his stupid manager. It’s just, well, very awkward—while they’re usually in places Yoongi knows well, this time he’s stumped.

Namjoon is definitely more in the US than Yoongi is in the UK. To be more specific, Yoongi’s been to the UK exactly three times in his life, and it was never for a panel show.

Well, he’s been on The Graham Norton Show, but that doesn’t count as a panel show, does it?

Namjoon has the upper hand. The knowledge of how to handle all the two thousand British trivia questions he doesn’t understand. That’s not even the biggest of his worries, though—first things first, he has to figure out how to keep breathing evenly.

Because he arrived there with the intent of crushing his skull in a thousand tiny pieces, and Namjoon is being weirdly friendly for his standards instead. Said hello to him with a smile and everything.

And it’s fucking unsettling.

“Hello and welcome to the Big Fat Quiz of 2020! It’s big, it’s fat, and it’s a quiz!” Jimmy says, though Yoongi is already tuning him out. 

His right knee twitches. He instantly thanks every deity for the desk that’s covering the incriminated area. He’s going to snap on national television. He feels it.

He can’t stay still. If being next to an overzealous Kim Namjoon wasn’t enough already, Richard Ayoade and Noel Fielding are literally breathing the same air as him. He’s going to pass out.

“Are you okay?” Namjoon says at some point, his fingers barely touching Yoongi’s arm but _definitely_ close to it.

Yoongi is surprised he even heard him. The cameras aren’t on them, rather recording Richard as Jimmy asks him how 2020 was for him, and Richard says something he doesn’t really catch. He closes his eyes for a split second.

“What do you care?” is what comes out of his mouth, even if that wasn’t his original intention. Is Namjoon _touching_ him?

“Sorry for asking,” Namjoon murmurs, his whole arm disappearing under the desk and from Yoongi’s sight. 

The apology sounds so odd coming from his mouth that Yoongi almost does a double take as he tries to process it. The time necessary for him to do that gets denied in front of him as Jimmy suddenly seems to remember they exist. The fact he can’t even enjoy where he is and that one of his biggest dreams is being ruined in front of his eyes hasn’t sunk in yet.

“Yoongi! You’ve been quiet.” Jimmy laughs, and finally Yoongi can’t help but crack a hesitant, but still, very amused smile. He’s met Jimmy before, but hearing that laugh in context, and above everything else live, has a strangely calming effect. “How has 2020 treated you?”

He can see Namjoon smirking in the corner of his eye, but decides to ignore it. This is his job. Being funny. He can do his job.

“Eh, you know. It had its highs and lows. Mostly highs. Every low was entirely due to this guy—” he nods in Namjoon’s general direction, “—getting too comfortable on Twitter. It’s fine, though. I understand not getting enough calls is reasonable grounds for feeling bored.”

Jack Whitehall’s high pitched laugh resounds in the studio, joined by the audience’s and the other contestants’. Richard Ayoade just laughed at something he said. Yoongi shows off a nonchalant smile. He’s still dying inside, but Richard laughed. That has to count for something.

“If this is how you treat your teammate, I don’t wanna know how you’re gonna treat us,” Noel exclaims, making him shrug, the smile still on his face.

“I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about lows, now are you?” Namjoon abruptly says, as if he just realized they were talking about him. Yoongi wants to wipe off that chill expression from his face so badly, and it’s a totally valid feeling. “Unless your bone structure changed overnight.”

Jimmy laughs. Yoongi wants to crawl under a rock and die.

Jokes about his height. Really?

“First of all—”

“Okay, enough, lovebirds,” Jimmy interrupts him, leaving him with his mouth half open and Richard still bent on the desk. Yoongi almost chokes on his own breath, and Namjoon unhelpfully starts patting his back.

His shirt suddenly feels too hot for the environment, though it’s not as bad when Namjoon eventually takes his hand back.

They should turn the heat down.

“Now, we’re going to go through some events that made Britain and beyond stop and watch this year. It’s up to you to fill in the missing parts. Sounds good?”

Yoongi nods, while Namjoon goes the extra mile and yells out his approval.

He hates British people.

He can feel himself tuning out the whole thing again as he only half recognizes some Love Island contestant explaining the game he knows perfectly already. Next to him, Namjoon is comfortably waiting in his chair, as stoic and confident as someone who knows what they’re doing would be.

His arm is dangerously perched on the desk, way too close to Yoongi’s.

Taehyung’s words ruined him.

It’s only when Jimmy starts talking again that Yoongi realizes the first round has started, but for once luck is on his side—as fate would have it, it’s something he definitely knows.

“I don’t know who we’re talking about here,” Namjoon says, and he looks as lost as everyone else. “I don’t follow these things.”

Of course he doesn’t.

“It was the NME Awards,” Yoongi mutters, trying not to let the whole studio hear. Everyone else is just mumbling stuff to each other. Jack is staring at the void. “In February. With Katherine Ryan.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t the Brits?” Namjoon raises his eyebrow. “You’re not exactly known for having a strong memory.”

“What does that mean?” Yoongi narrows his eyes at him, then huffs out a nervous sigh. “It was the NME Awards. They weren’t televised. I remember seeing videos on Twitter.”

“I don’t know, that sounds wrong to me.”

“Oh my God,” Yoongi snaps at last, snatching the pen from Namjoon’s hands through his protests. He scribbles the words down on the screen, deadly set on ignoring the awareness that Namjoon is staring at him. “Shut up.”

“Good job, team,” Namjoon says sarcastically. The smile in his voice is evident, but Yoongi pretends not to hear it. Pretending stuff isn’t happening has been working well for him all his life.

“What do we have here?” Jimmy asks to no one in particular.

“I don’t know, the Grammys?” Richard says, clearly trying to guess. The writing on their screen is totally unintelligible. Somehow, Yoongi doubts it wasn’t intentional. “I don’t know.”

“We don’t know,” Noel echoes.

“I’m gonna say something nobody cares about like the Kids’ Choice Awards or whatever the fuck they’re called,” Claudia says. Jack just nods, like he’s done with it already, and Yoongi relates so hard. If only he’d ended up on Jack’s team, he wouldn’t be in this situation.

He would be having fun.

Too bad he’s never allowed to have fun in this world.

“Lovebirds?” Jimmy continues, making him cover his mouth with his hand and groan. He can’t be seen blushing. Why the hell is he blushing.

Namjoon just laughs, like everyone else. It is most definitely not funny.

“It was the NME Awards,” Yoongi eventually mumbles, and Jimmy nods.

“That is correct.”

“I told you it was the NME stuff,” Noel says in the distance. Richard makes a shocked face, then fires back with something that vaguely sounds like _you did not tell me that._

Banter is fun. Yoongi wouldn’t know.

“How are you more informed about this stuff than I am?” Namjoon leans back in his chair. It might be Yoongi’s paranoia, but they weren’t sitting that close to each other before. “Maybe we can win this thing.”

“I doubt it,” Yoongi murmurs, aware of his own weaknesses. “If it’s not on Twitter, I don’t know about it.”

“I mean, me too.” Jimmy’s next question faintly reaches his ears, but Yoongi’s not really paying more attention than the bare minimum. Namjoon’s arm is almost touching his. It’s barely skin contact, and it shouldn’t be affecting him that much—hell, it shouldn’t be affecting him at all—but apparently rules are warped in this studio. “Misery loves company.”

“Misery loves me,” Yoongi says before he can stop himself, and Namjoon lets out a tiny giggle that he should _not_ be finding cute. He’s doomed. Completely doomed. “Stop pretending you’re bad at this.”

“How do you know I’m not?” the little shit asks.

“Not your business,” Yoongi fires back, snatches the pen out of his hands again, and writes down the answer five seconds before the time ends. “It was Taylor Swift at Glastonbury.”

“That’s correct, too!” Jimmy exclaims as the audience claps. “You’re on fire today, aren’t you?”

“I am fueled by hate,” Yoongi deadpans, causing every other contestant to start laughing. Namjoon grunts something in response that Yoongi isn’t interested in interpreting.

“That’s a valid sentiment,” Jimmy says, making Jack laugh even more.

Okay, maybe it’s not going as bad as Yoongi thought it would.

* * *

It’s going as bad as Yoongi thought it would.

For one, Namjoon stopped pretending to be clueless and stole his lead. Or maybe he just genuinely didn’t know the first two questions. Yoongi doesn’t care.

They go through a longwinded argument about the UK music charts, Namjoon dares to mention he thinks Lewis Capaldi deserved a Grammy, Yoongi tells him he doesn’t understand shit about music in a very nice way, Jimmy calls them lovebirds four more times, and they win every game. Last big question included.

The divide between their score and the other teams’ is so wide Jimmy jokingly implies they may have set a record in the history of the show,

Yoongi’s skin feels on fire the entire time.

“And then I said, well, I guess that’s how things in America work, then,” Namjoon continues, and it’s likely he’s doing everything in his power to ignore the metaphorical smoke coming out of Yoongi’s ears. They’re done recording, and Yoongi isn’t in the mood to have social interactions. Especially with Namjoon there. “And he told me to shut up again, which—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Yoongi cuts him off as loudly as he can, which only helps making the hysterics of the situation way worse. Jack almost chokes on his coffee. “You’ve told this story more times than your stand-up routines.”

“What if it was part of my stand-up routine?” Namjoon exclaims, resting his hand on Yoongi’s shoulder without a second thought. Yoongi tries not to react to it, but he does—and he’s sure Namjoon notices it. “Look out for my next tour.”

“I don’t think I will,” Yoongi deadpans, determined to hold Namjoon’s gaze.

It’s way too intense for his liking. He doesn’t know what Namjoon is thinking and he’d rather keep it that way, but his hand is still on Yoongi’s shoulder and it’s making everything weird. Weirder than usual.

“That’s a shame.” A grin makes its way onto Namjoon’s mouth, and for a second Yoongi forgets they’re not alone backstage. “You could learn a thing or two.”

“About what?” Yoongi fires back, aware of the eyes watching them, but too caught up in whatever it is that’s going on between them. It’s like someone lit a fire under their feet and ran away without leaving anything to put the disaster out. “Being bad at my job?”

Richard and Noel had left a while ago, thank God for that. Only Jack and Claudia were still there, which was a curse and a blessing at the same time. Maybe knowing he was about to put on a spectacle in front of two of his favorite comedians would have helped him calm down.

“It’s been a, uh, a pleasure,” he hears Jack say behind them, the amused smile clear in his words. At least _someone_ is having fun. “Yoongi, I’ll text you?”

“Sure,” he says, a pretty obvious strain in his voice as he forces himself to look up at him. Jack offers him a thumbs up, so he frowns. “Say hi to your dad.”

“Of course.” Jack nods, a curious look on his face. What does he know that Yoongi doesn’t? “We should meet up some other time. Either here or in LA. Take care.”

Yoongi nods, too, confused by the interaction, and Namjoon makes a knowing sound.

“What?”

“Wasn’t he dating that girl from Crazy Rich Asians?”

“I think they broke up like three years ago.” Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Namjoon shrugs. “I don’t know, I was just saying.”

“You were just saying what?” His hand is still on Yoongi’s shoulder, making him hyperaware of the height difference between them. It’s stressing him out.

“Come on, I know you have the brain to get there yourself.”

Yoongi blinks. “We’re friends.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s something that concerns you.”

“Obviously it doesn’t.” Namjoon shrugs. “I did tell you I was just saying.”

“You’re never _just saying,_ and you know it,” Yoongi says, his brain-to-mouth filter dead and gone.

“What does that mean?”

The backstage is basically empty, excluding someone dragging cables back from the studio. Yoongi doesn’t know where Taehyung is, but it’s the last of his concerns right now.

“Nothing.”

“Nah, you don’t get to do that,” Namjoon says under his breath, finally taking his hand back. The sudden absence makes Yoongi do a double take. “What?”

“Why were you acting like that before?” Yoongi blurts out.

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like we can tolerate each other.”

“I—” Namjoon pauses. When he speaks again, he sounds more confused than anything else. “What?”

Yoongi exhales a breath, his hands balling up in two fists next to his hips. “Stop playing dumb.”

“I don’t—” Namjoon’s face lights up in realization, eventually. “Oh.”

“What?” Yoongi snaps, taking a step forward. He immediately regrets it when they end up face to face, but he doesn’t retreat. “What, Namjoon?”

“You think I don’t like you,” Namjoon says as a matter of fact.

“You _don’t_ like me,” Yoongi shoots back to emphasize the concept.

There’s a long moment of silence that borders on awkward almost immediately. Namjoon’s eyes haven’t stopped staring into Yoongi’s for a second, and there’s a determined quality to them—almost fiery-like. Yoongi’s legs tremble for a brief second, but he doesn’t look away.

“That’s the dumbest shit that’s ever come out of your mouth,” is what Namjoon ends up saying, making Yoongi’s eyes widen. “And you say a lot of dumb shit already, Yoongi.”

“I don’t say—”

“You think I don’t like you,” Namjoon repeats, and they’re closer now. Yoongi’s not sure who leaned in first. His heartbeat instantly picks up, making him swallow. “Really?”

“You called me a wanker on Fallon,” Yoongi says, a flat acknowledgement that only makes Namjoon’s lips form a smirk. “What? Black Thought laughed at me.”

“I wish Black Thought laughed at me,” Namjoon says, his voice low and dangerously close to Yoongi’s face. His hand ends up on Yoongi’s hip, somehow, and Yoongi lets him get away with it. His priorities are looking really messed up right now. “So, I don’t like you, and you don’t like me. Right?”

“Yes.” Yoongi swallows again. “You’re constantly insulting me on Twitter. It’s unnerving.”

“And why do you think I do it?” Namjoon leans in even closer. Yoongi wants to take a step back so badly, just do something—anything at all—to get away from that piercing stare, but he doesn’t. For some fucked up reason, he chooses not to. “Find ways to talk to you?”

“Because you’re annoying as fuck,” Yoongi says, as blunt as he can manage to be. Namjoon doesn’t even look touched. “Because you want to be me so bad, and I’m your competition, so you stay on my ass every single time you can.”

Namjoon laughs—a brief and light laugh that sounds completely out of place in the tension that’s developed between them. Yoongi has stopped paying attention to who’s around them a while ago.

“You got one thing right, you are my competition,” Namjoon admits, though it doesn’t look like it took a lot out of him to do it. It’s almost as if he was just waiting to get it out. “Because you’re great at what you do. It pushes me to do things I wouldn’t normally do on my own. It’s completely different when we’re together.”

Yoongi tilts his head up, locking eyes with him once again. “Together?”

“Cut the shit, Yoongi.” Namjoon rests his other hand on Yoongi’s body, holding on to his hips, their faces merely one inch apart. “We’re never as good on our own as we are when we’re in the same room. You know it. You keep agreeing to do stuff with me. You know it just as much as I do.”

“My manager makes me agree to that,” Yoongi tries to defend himself, but he ends up doubting whether _he_ even believes that. “And I can’t stand it.”

“Right.” Namjoon nods, slow and calculated—and evidently sarcastic. “And you can’t stand me.”

Yoongi’s heart skips a beat. “Yes.”

“But you’re here,” Namjoon just says.

He is. He is, and he’s still choosing to be. Even if everything says he’s not supposed to.

“Yeah.”

“What is it that you can’t stand about me?” Namjoon’s grip on Yoongi’s body grows tighter, making him stiffen. But he’s still there. “Is it the way I talk about your terrible outfits on Twitter?”

“Yes.” It’s an automatic response, and he’s uncomfortable with how natural it ends up feeling, but his muscles gradually relax under Namjoon’s touch all the same. Namjoon pushes him forward, until Yoongi’s back hits the wall behind him. The backstage is still empty. “I don’t need you trying to be my stylist.”

“Right,” Namjoon murmurs, that single word reaching Yoongi’s ears like a distant prayer. He shivers under his touch, but never looks away. “What about when they made us host the Independent Spirit Awards together? How much did you hate that?”

“It drives me up the wall,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth, unable to hold himself back. “The fact it’s always you. Every opportunity, I always have to share it with you. I hate it.”

“How do you think that makes _me_ feel?” Namjoon narrows his eyes, one of his hands travelling to Yoongi’s upper body. Seconds later, he’s touching the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against his hair. Their lips touch. “What makes you think I don’t get tired of always being in your shadow too, sometimes?”

“The way you act,” Yoongi whispers. His first instinct is to lick his lips. “The way you always look like you’re above everything. Like nothing ever touches you.”

“Has nobody ever taught you not to judge a book by its cover?” Namjoon tilts his chin up with two fingers, then brushes his thumb against Yoongi’s bottom lip. Yoongi’s mouth parts slightly, yet he still doesn’t react. “You’re the one who makes it clear you don’t like it. I’m the one who leads the dynamic.”

“You’re not leading shit.” Yoongi moves his hand away, forcing Namjoon’s arm to fall on his shoulder instead. “You’re always walking around like you’re the one who’s in charge of whatever this is, and I’m sick of being treated like—”

The rest of his words end up being swallowed by Namjoon’s mouth, and suddenly his fingers are in Yoongi’s hair and Yoongi immediately knows he’s given up on restraint. He realizes when his hands fly to Namjoon’s hips and his lips part the instant Namjoon’s tongue touches them.

It’s a visceral reaction, and Yoongi gives in to it, follows Namjoon’s movements and lets him touch him and push him back against the wall in a string of actions straight out of a fever dream. His heart responds to it in a way he wasn’t expecting, but he doesn’t pay attention to it—the more he tries to focus on something that’s not Namjoon’s lips, and Namjoon’s muscles under his touch, and just _Namjoon,_ point blank, the more he fails.

It’s not delicate, and much less is it romantic—it’s every time Yoongi thought he wanted to stop having to deal with him, but really, it was the exact opposite. He wants to feel, keep the way Namjoon is completely abandoning any sense of self-preservation burned in his mind, keep it stored away and live it, live through it until he’s out of breath and out of control.

“I’ve never met,” Namjoon tries to say, his breath heavy on Yoongi’s lips, “anyone even remotely like you.”

“I know,” Yoongi breathes out, barely managing to stand straight as his back slumps against the wall. Namjoon’s hold on his body tightens. “Likewise.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I don’t like you,” Namjoon says all in one breath. Yoongi can’t look away. “If you think I’m in this mess because I have nothing better to do than to annoy you.”

Yoongi’s eyes go wide. “I—”

“Say something else,” Namjoon cuts him off, determined to go on with whatever he has to say. He leans in again and rests his forehead against Yoongi’s, but doesn’t close his eyes. “Tell me everything you don’t like about me. Go ahead.”

“Your accent is obnoxious,” Yoongi says, but it comes out uncertain. “You’re uselessly tall. I don’t want to look like a gnome next to you. You talk too much. Your laugh is so annoying. You’re so fucking smart and you always have something to say and it drives me crazy.”

“That’s the stuff you don’t like?” Namjoon rests his hand on Yoongi’s cheek, his thumb slowly grazing his increasingly warm skin. Yoongi licks his bottom lip, trying not to focus on the way Namjoon’s mouth is red and swollen, and how he wants to feel it on his own again before the day ends. “That I’m British and my brain works? No mention of how I just grabbed you and kissed you and you had absolutely nothing against it?”

“No.” Yoongi’s eyelids flutter shut. Namjoon’s heavy breath is lulling him into a trance—a trance that shouldn’t feel so comfortable. “I just hate your accent.”

“That’s my family’s fault, I think,” Namjoon whispers, the touch of his fingertips light as a feather on Yoongi’s skin. “You’ll have to deal with it.”

“What makes you think I want to?” Yoongi forces himself to open his eyes, and the look on Namjoon’s face almost knocks him out. “To deal with it.”

Namjoon doesn’t answer. He lets their lips touch again instead, and this time—this time around Yoongi feels everything their previous kiss had denied him. Namjoon takes it slow this time, and it’s hardly even an actual kiss. It’s a touch of lips, a touch so frail Yoongi lets out a sigh and leans into it without even meaning to.

“This,” Namjoon says, firm but somehow soft at the same time. Yoongi swallows. “This really makes me think you want to.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I know how,” Yoongi admits.

For the first time, he breaks eye contact. His head feels clouded with too many realizations at once, hitting him at an unmanageable speed, and he’s sure Namjoon is starting to grasp he’s definitely not talking about his accent anymore.

“It’s easy, really.” He delicately steers Yoongi’s gaze into his own again. “You just keep being annoying, and sometimes I get to kiss you.”

A chuckle escapes Yoongi’s control. “Really, Namjoon?”

“Yup.” Namjoon cocks his head to the side, somehow looking younger than he actually is. There’s an odd spark of innocence in his expression that Yoongi doesn’t remember ever seeing on him. “Not a big deal. For example, you could say how you wanted to find your way in the world of panel shows and I had to be in that too, and I could kiss you again.”

“How do you know I wanted—” He cuts himself off. “Right. Why do I even question your mighty intellect at all?”

“It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re a fan of that when your Twitter account exists.” Namjoon’s smile is blinding, and Yoongi wonders when he stopped finding it irritating. “But thanks for the compliment. Also, you said you know I’m good at trivia, so you must have seen me somewhere putting it to good use. And you ran all the way from California.”

“I can’t fucking stand you,” Yoongi mutters to himself, but knowing Namjoon’s going to hear it anyway. “Condescending asshole.”

“Such a brat you are,” Namjoon purrs, running his fingers through his hair. Yoongi rolls his eyes out of instinct. “It’s a good reminder of why I like you.”

“Stop saying you like me.”

“Why?” Namjoon leans in and leaves a peck on his lips. Yoongi’s traitor cheeks start to blush. “I do like you.”

“I still can’t stand you,” Yoongi says, even though he doesn’t even believe it himself. Namjoon’s grin is enough to let him know he doesn’t believe it either. “Now let me go.”

“You’re adorable when you throw a fit,” Namjoon says, amusement shining in his voice. He takes a step back, but Yoongi doesn’t leave the wall. He’s not so sure he wanted Namjoon to actually let go. “We even won today. Too bad it’s not coming out for another three weeks.”

“Not that I’m gonna be watching it.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, trying to keep his blood flow under control before he makes a fool out of himself again. “You ruined the experience, but what can I expect from a Lewis Capaldi fan?”

“Shut the fuck up, Yoongi,” Namjoon says, but there’s no bite to it. There never was any bite to it, and Yoongi finds himself doubting how he started to think there was in the first place. “How long are you gonna be staying in London?”

Yoongi clears his throat, shoving his thoughts aside. “Why do you want to know?”

Namjoon gives him a pointed look. Yoongi answers with a tight smile.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Namjoon licks his lips. “Do you want the socially acceptable reason, or the whole thing?”

“What’s the difference—”

“I want to fuck you until the bed begs me to stop for every time you’ve ever made me feel exasperated by your annoying ass. And then make you breakfast.”

Yoongi’s eyes widen out of shock. “Okay, that’s—how do you even know I’d be down with that—”

Namjoon stares at him again. Yoongi huffs out a sigh.

“I leave in two days.”

“Good.”

Yoongi looks away. “I have one free change of dates, though, so…”

Namjoon grins.

Yoongi flips him off.

“If you two are done confessing to each other, we’re closing down the studio.”

Yoongi’s heart almost flies right out of his throat, and Namjoon bursts out laughing, earning a glare from the other comedian.

“We’re leaving,” he says to the crew guy, dragging Yoongi away by his hand. “Thanks.”

The guy shakes his head, murmuring something about ‘famous people’. Yoongi lets himself be dragged outside. He’s been humiliated enough already; one more disgrace won’t change much.

“Taehyung will probably think I died,” he mutters, fishing his phone out of his pocket. When he unlocks it, though, there aren’t any missed calls. “Huh.”

“Who, your manager?” Namjoon says distractedly, typing something on his own phone. “Jungkook said they had stuff to do after we finished filming, they’re probably together.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “Who’s Jungkook?”

“Uh.” Namjoon looks confused. “My manager.”

“Oh.” A realization crashes down on him, and his eyes widen. “Are our managers fucking?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow for a moment. “I… think so?”

“Huh.” Yoongi stares at his phone screen. “Somehow, out of everything else, _this_ is the worst thing that has happened to me today.”

“What other bad things have happened to you today?” Namjoon suddenly looks offended. “If you’re implying—”

“Until this beautiful realization I just had dropped on me, yes, having to kiss your annoying ass was on top of my tragedies chart.”

“You bloody liar,” Namjoon grunts, shoving his elbow in Yoongi’s side. Yoongi whines. “Shut up.”

“You shut up, stop using that word,” Yoongi laments, glancing at the crime scene on his upper body. “John Oliver wannabe.”

“What? Bloody?” Namjoon grins, then grabs his hand again and drags him to a car Yoongi can only suspect is an Uber he doesn’t recall either of them calling. He’s stopped questioning him ages ago. “Oh, bloody hell, milord, bruv.”

“Are you done insulting yourself?” Yoongi mutters, shoving him inside the car. “Shut up.”

“Nope.” Namjoon keeps smiling at him. “Bruv.”

Yoongi punches him on the arm.

They don’t get a lot of sleep that night.

* * *

Somewhere on the other side of London, Taehyung gets woken up at six in the morning by a screaming voicemail.

(Namjoon was in on it.)

* * *

_free palestine free tay k @namjoon_twt  
_ _yoongi just told me i’m unfunny and now i’m sad  
_ _6.4k retweets | 23.3k likes_

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi  
_ _i keep putting up with his ass and he STILL won’t @ me  
_ _5.6K retweets | 10.7k likes_

_Jack Whitehall @JackWhitehall  
_ _i am SO excited to officiate the wedding.  
_ _20.4k retweets | 50k likes_

_stream my netflix special @min_yoongi_  
_stop circulating rumors i am NOT GETTING MARRIED TO THAT POSH BITCH AND TELL THE DAILY MAIL THAT I HATE THEIR FUCKING ASS  
_ _25.6k retweets | 30.7k likes_

**Author's Note:**

> i started working on this in like october but then! today i was supposed to see algiers live and it was cancelled bc of health concerns and i was very fucking sad so i went digging through my failures folder and found 700 words of this au. somehow they became 7k in an afternoon. nice. just wanna mention im neither american nor british so stuff might be off, i just really like the big fat quiz. truly the highlight of every christmas
> 
> thanks for reading! hit me up on [twitter](http://twitter.com/homewithkyu) :D


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